P O W
by coopers muse
Summary: Eds been captured by the enemy,they have broken his hands,taken his automail and taken his pride.But his will cannot be broken.In a POWcamp men cometogether,and then a new prisoner arrives.The risks are rising,but so are the chances of escape.SlightAuExR?
1. Chapter 1

**P O W**

Disclaimer: don't own fma. D': not even a dvd! wails

A/N: and another dark fic emerges, strangely enough I always find I enjoy writing these ones more. He he? Sorry if its rough, I still haven't gotten my hands on an editor, but please R&R! EDIT i've made some minor changes with the help of Mithluin and anmbcuconnfan who pointed out some mistakes. thankyou guys!

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**Chapter One:**

Hungry.

Always hungry. That was one of the first things he realized wasn't going to change.

The state of absolute filth was another constant that he soon realized he was going to have to deal with. And that notion had lead to the third, most horrifying thought.

The Fullmetal Alchemist had no idea just how long he was going to _have _to live like this.

Edward growled lowly in his throat, curling tightly into the corner he had claimed as his own. The small room was filled with three level bunk beds-leaving only the smallest of gaps between-and because of this every possible inch of space was crammed with men. Sweating, cussing, sleeping, dirty, starving men, all of them wearing the tatted remains of their Amestris uniforms.

With a sigh Ed pushed himself up to lean against the cold concrete walls. He'd given up his bed to a man who wouldn't last the night through.

He looked over to the young Cadet, whose feverish brow was glistening in the dull light offered by the single bare bulb. The fool had been desperate enough to eat a slab of raw meat he was thrown like a dog and had caught something because of it.

But Edward couldn't really blame him, with the ridiculously small rations their cell was given whenever someone remembered… Edward shook his head and sat up straighter, eyes drifting over to another bed.

The man across the room was probably going to escape this hell hole with the Cadet. Edward hated the fact that he believed in nothing, thinking that something peaceful waited for him '_after_' would have been nice. But Ed knew that when he died, he'd just be waiting for his heart to stop its constant movement, and from there wait for that spark of life in his brain to dim and go out without oxygen to fuel it. And then his mind would dim, perhaps with one final release of chemicals from his brain, and he'd be gone…nothing but an empty husk which would take up space.

Ed quickly shook his head to clear it; thinking about death in a place like this was a one way road to depression, suicide, and insanity.

_Something I'd like to avoid thank you very much. _

The other man had been one of the stronger, healthier ones who, like Edward, split their food with the sickly. He couldn't weigh more then a hundred and sixteen pounds on his death bed.

Edward closed his eyes and pressed his check to the cool concrete behind him.

He'd grown used to such things, and however much he hated it he knew that the two deaths would mean two more beds and blankets to share round.

The Fullmetal Alchemist pulled his great coat closer around himself with one shaking hand. It was his most prized possession there-the simple black garment providing valuable warmth and comfort that he would not trade for anything …well, except perhaps for a ticket out or some extra food…

His stomach gurgled depressingly but Ed ignored it and the hunger pangs that followed. It was just another pain he'd had enough time to get use too. Some of the newer captives still doubled over with the pains, but they'd grow used to it too.

Edward Elric had been in the camp for what he estimated to be four months.

"Water Sir?"

Ed looked up at warrant officer Jones, who was offering him a dented tin mug. He smiled weakly at Edward, revealing two missing teeth caused by whatever reason the guards had given.

With a grateful nod Edward sipped at the precious liquid, savoring even the oily film that coated his mouth along with the water that wet his parched throat. But with restraint he stopped himself from finishing the whole of his share.

The warrant officer frowned

"Sir-" he began

"Give the rest of my portion to the Cadet" Ed instructed. Jones' frown deepened. Lowering his voice he whispered

"With all due respect Sir, you should drink what you can. Cadet Wilson won't make it through the night,"

Edward scowled, gold eyes flashing furiously in the dim light.

"Precisely why we should make his final moments as comfortable as we possible can" he hissed.

Jones' frowned deepened with determination.

"Sir-your health is more important than-"

"That is an order Warrant Officer Jones"

Jones' free hand snapped to his forehead in a sharp salute

"Yes Lieutenant Colonel Elric sir!" he parroted before moving off to the Cadets bed.

Edward had been one of the first captured by Drachma-because it was his platoon that had been the first to be culled on the front lines.

Yes, Lieutenant Colonel Elrics first mission in command had not gone well.

But because of it he had been the longest at the camp by far, and was also the highest ranked in the cell. Because of that he had been elected to be in charge, despite Edwards vein refusal.

But slowly the responsibility had grown on him, and he'd come to look at his position as a chance to make up for his failure…or at least try too.

Edward rubbed at his face gingerly-hissing as his palm brushed against his cheek.

Breathing through gritted teeth Ed pulled his hand away and looked at the damage.

_Burst another one! Shit!_ His palms didn't have fingerprints on them anymore, and Ed knew they never would.

Every few weeks he was taken away and they were re-burned to prevent him from performing alchemy.

Layer upon layer of melted skin now served as his left hand, and all Edward could do was try to keep off infection. That of course was the sick genius in it, he couldn't risk touching anything to draw an array. He stared forlornly at the gap between his middle finger and pinky, the evidence of the only time he had tried. He felt bitter resentment rise up in his throat like bile.

He'd had to have the finger cut off to save the rest of his hand.

His automail had of course been taken from him the moment he arrived, both arm and leg, leaving Edward a cripple who had to rely on anyone who was willing to help him.

He knew that if his men hadn't deemed him worthy of leading he wouldn't have stood a chance. Because they trusted him, they gave him some of the food they scrounged for, they brought him water, they helped him move around.

He knew they needed him as much as he needed them.

Part of it was the fact that Edward knew what he was doing, and what needed to be done for all of them to survive. He knew what things they had to priorities-water, food, blankets- and knew how it could be done without punishment. Edward Elric was a prodigy after all.

Because of him they had five extra blankets. Five extra sources of warmth that the guards didn't know were missing from their stores.

The other part was mental, all of these men where military, were subordinates during a war. And Ed provided the smallest source of normalcy in a place of unfamiliar circumstances. A CO who told them what to do when they began to remember why they were there, who gave them tasks to do to keep their thoughts from wondering.

And from what Edward had overheard from the guards, the war was not going well…for Amestris at least.

And so the men of the _Boarder Pass POW Camp_ faced and prepared for the fact that their rescue team might take a while to arrive.

Ed sat back and closed his eyes, knowing that he should try and sleep while he had the chance but finding himself unable too.

The noises of men snoring, and talking quietly amongst themselves all filled his keen ears. He tried to focus on them instead of ill men's whimpers, or the soothing final words whispered to a departing friend, or the silent tears that every one of them had shed at least once.

Edward shuddered to think how he would have handled any of this if he'd been any younger. Being eighteen had been both his blessing and curse.

His curse because he'd finally been old enough for the State to send him to the front line. His blessing…because Alphonse was still only seventeen and unable to follow.

The restless noise of the cell fell abruptly silent-a dead breathe from broken men acknowledging their place- as the heavy locks of the door were pulled back and the rumble of harsh foreign voices echoed in the hall outside.

Not a soul moved as that one portal to the outside world slammed open on creaking hinges; and four Drachman guards stepped into their filthy abode.

Ed listened silently as the gravely voices snapped at each other and laughed mockingly. But one word made his dulling gold eyes widen and his blood thrum deafeningly in his ears. There were a few words of Drachman that Ed had been able to learn, and one of them was 'Alchemist'.

With fear creeping into his mind, Ed sat up straighter as he crained his head-filthy hair slapping against his shoulders as one thought repeated frantically in his mind. _Don't be Alphonse, don't be Alphonse, please don't be Alphonse!_

From his position on the floor, he saw a single figure suspended between the guards. The blue of his uniform just visible beneath his black Great Coat. Ed bit his lip as he took in the mans unconscious form. A dark head was bowed, slim shoulders shuddering every few moments as the man seemed to twitch, but what worried Edward was the fact he was covered with mud and darker, much more sinister stains.

The man was _not_ in good shape. New prisoners usual came in kicking and screaming… '_At least it's not Alphonse' _a tiny relieved voice whispered in the back of his head.

"Another playmate!" a guard snickered in broken Amertrisan before they dumped the limp body where it fell in the threshold, and left with the drumming of quick boots and the clang of a slammed steel door.

As soon as the door was closed, every man able to move leapt into action. A mad rush of movement overcame the room, movement that seemed to overcompensate for the harsh stillness of a moment before. A bed was cleared, a valuable blanket offered and hushed voices began to clamor about the thick walls.

"Shit! Someone get some water!" a voice hissed as two privates lifted the injured man onto the nearest bed.

"Is there anything we can do to numb the pain?" another man asked as the new prisoner continued to twitch violently.

"God. That looks like it hurts"

"Passed out is as good as we can do"

"Can we set his hands?" a timid voice asked

"We'd just mess 'em up more!"

"At least nothings broken the skin"

Ed struggled to his feet as Jones jogged up to him, slinging Eds remaining arm about his shoulders he helped Edward hop his way across the room.

"What's his status? Rank? Does anybody know him?" Ed asked briskly.

The graying Lieutenant O'Brian looked up, his mottled brown hair a mess about his thin, hollow cheeked face.

"An Alchemist for sure-his hands have been broken bad. Looks like he has a cut on his head-that's where all the bloods from, its nothing too serious; just bleeding a whole load. Apart from that he's just been roughed up, probably interrogated." He reported,

"Rank?" Edward prompted; the man frowned, shaking his head.

"I don't know. Every insignias been burnt off his uniform Lieutenant Colonel"

Edwards face paled.

"Burnt!?" he demanded, throwing off the Warrant Officers arm and jumping to the bunk bed the new solider lay on. _For the love of the gate! If__** he's**__ been captured we're all done for!_

Propped on the bed frame, Edward leaned forward frantically, pushing the mans long hair aside from his face with a pain lanced fingers.

All hope Edward had allowed himself to cling too slowly died in his chest. Realizing just what he was seeing, any thoughts of rescue withered.

A too pale face, shadows beneath exotically slanted eyes, dark hair mattered with blood, thin lips drawn tight with pain.

Edward bit back his despair for the sake of the men who looked to him for leadership and strength. He wouldn't fail them as he had his first team. He looked away and closed his eyes, knowing that he couldn't tell the men that their greatest hope of escape was now locked inside with them.

For General Roy Mustang was a Prisoner of War.

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hope ya liked, please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**P O W**

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, not even any DVDs! D'X

A/N: Another chapter; but once again, this is not formally edited so please excuse some errors, also the break is a change of POV. _Please R&R!_

**Chapter Two: **

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A groan.

A noise that of itself in the current surroundings was as normal as breathing.

Ed turned to the sound to be met with surprisingly focused dark eyes.

Even with the aisle of space between them, and the dizziness that must have accompanied such a blow to the head, the eyes bore into him.

And thankfully; the will staring him down was anything but broken.

Edward sighed with relief. It had been one of his main concerns, and he felt his shoulders relax as he realized the thought had been unfounded. After all, brave men had come back from the Drachman interrogators damaged beyond repair. True, Edward knew that Mustang was stronger then most, but there was only so much someone could take…

They were both on the bottom bunks of two parallels beds. Other men were stacked around them on the upper levels; taking advantage of the only spot where anyone could find a hint of personal space.

The eyes blinked up at him, wispy hair falling about the still too pale face. But the hair was not enough to hide the bruise already beginning to discolour his cheek. The mottled shades where creeping up to his hair line and down into the collar of his coat. Swelling was beginning to bloat his usually thin lips, and was slowly forcing his left eye shut to match it.

"Where am I solider?" a gruff voice asked, a split lip cracking back open. Edward blinked in surprise at the official tone. _He doesn't recognize me_ he realized, but then again, with his hair as filthy as it was it would be hard to identify it as blonde, let alone the sun touched hue he usually supported. And any puppy fat he may have once had was long, long gone, revealing an unexpectedly strong jaw line that Edward was proud of-_no more being mistaken as a girl now! _He couldn't help but think.

The last time the General had seen him, Edward had been clean shaven, and blissfully clean, with sharp eyes and an unwavering resolve to match them. _At least one thing hasn't changed_ he thought as he straightened his shoulders.

"At the _Boarder Pass _POW Camp '_Sir_'" Edward let the last word drawl from his mouth as a smirk tugged at his chapped lips. He arched a mocking brow, thrilling at the idea of the banter he had so missed.

Mustang frowned, brows crinkling together as he stared up at the suddenly familiar voice.

His eyes widen a moment later, a sharp intake of breathe signaling no doubt his recognition.

"_Fullmetal_?!" He gasped.

Edward chuckled.

"Long time no see eh?"

Mustang struggled to sit up, cradling his deformed hands to his chest before Jones moved forward and helped him. Mustang nodded his thanks, though his eyes never left Ed's golden gaze. His mouth opened and closed as he struggled for words until finally he spat out-

"-But your whole platoon?"

Eds eyes darkened as he fought the urge to look away. He had stopped running from his past a long time ago, _but old habits die hard_.

"Apparently I was too valuable to be killed" Edward told him, resentment clear in his voice. An answering flash of pain echoed in Mustangs eyes.

"We thought you were dead Fullmetal" he said, voice distant.

Ed snorted

"Sorry to disappoint"

A few rare chuckles rose from the bunks around them and Ed's smile became less forced. It was good to give his men a reason to laugh; the sound was sorely missed.

Mustang looked around, finally noticing the other men crowded around them, his expression became tight.

"How many?" he asked,

"Too many"

Mustang turned to him with a scowl

"Now is not the time for cheek _lieutenant Colonel_"

Ed sat back, stretching his shoulders as he tossed his head.

"Around here, you take what moments you can _General" _

"Fullmetal" Mustang warned, Ed rolled his eyes

"Sixty eight, perhaps sixty five come morning. And that's just our room. I'd estimate around seven hundred for the whole camp. About one hundred are civilians from the small towns near the boarder"

Mustang nodded slowly

"How does everything work around here? You seem to be in charge?"

Edward nodded

"You catch on quick as always Bastard. There are ten cells in use, but twenty on the camp.

In each prison cell one man is elected to be in charge, it isn't always the highest rank, in fact cell eight's leader is a Private.

Everyday all of the POW's are released to do work in the Yard. This can range from stitching blankets for the Drachman troops to sorting out ore brought in by trucks for metal work off camp. We are just workhorses; we do whatever we're told to. The cell leaders met once a month during our time in the Yard, anymore often and it might raise suspicions. To be safe we have four other false leaders who met up at different times so groups don't seem too odd.

At these meetings we inform each other of our cells status. How many deaths, how many newcomers, how many supplies we have to spare and so forth. We have several spots in the yard that, when a scrap of uniform is left there, means that the leaders need to meet because of a problem, or new information."

"You seem organized" Mustang interrupted, approval present in his voice.

"We've had a lot of time to work things out" Ed deadpanned before continuing.

"The ten other cells on site are used by the guards as living quarters, and as temporary command centers whenever any battalion's come visiting. At one point a month ago the camp was used as a base, if only for a week, as they prepared for some battle close by. We did what we could for Amestris of course, sabotaging their food supplies"

More laughter rose up around the room and Ed's smirk returned. Mustang raised a brow

"Should thanks for our win at the _Pass _be offered to you then?" he asked and a small cheer crested around the room. Edward grinned, for the first time in weeks true excitement rising in his chest.

"We won? How much land gained? Wait- _Pass_-do you mean the _Boarder Pass_?" Ed demanded, slinging his single foot to the bare concrete floor.

Mustang caught the movement and his eyes widened once again, for the first time taking in Ed's form.

"Fullmetal, how long have you been without your limbs?" he asked, but Ed waved him off quickly

"Since I came here-The Pass! Do. You. Mean. The. _Boarder_. Pass!" there was no denying his harsh tone was an order.

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Choosing to ignore the insubordination, Mustang nodded. He knew he was on Fullmetals grounds now; Edward was clearly in charge of this new world.

"Yes, we gained two miles of the Boarder Pass route."

Around the room discussion broke out in a rush of mingled sounds and Ed's face went blank. He leaned back, looking at his palm for a moment before looking back up.

His face was transformed. Roy Mustang saw the boy of twelve beaming out of a face lined with premature age.

"Two miles? You're sure?" Ed asked, eyes shining with suspicious moister Mustang chose not to mention. He nodded and Ed closed his eyes tightly before looking back to the Generals face.

Back with full force was a spark he hadn't noticed Ed's gaze was lacking. Roy wondered how he'd ever missed its presence in the first place, for Edwards face was transformed. Gone was the hardened prisoner of war whose spirit was crackling-and back was the State Alchemist who had passed the exam at twelve and done the impossible to get his brothers body back.

"I imagine this is new news" he asked with a lopsided grin.

Edward laughed. It was a full throated, alive sound that seemed out of place in the dim cold room.

"I could kiss you right now Mustang-I really could"

The Warrant Officer leaning on the bed frame near them chuckled- revealing a wide grin with missing teeth

"Need a hand across the isle Lieutenant Colonel? I'd be happy to help. News like that deserves reward after all"

Everyone was laughing, and during the commotion Edward wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You know what? I'm sorely tempted to take you up on that!"

Mustang knew that if he wasn't so nauseous, and if his hands didn't hurt as much as they did, he'd have joined in with the contagious sound. If this was what the camp was like, it wouldn't be so bad…

The noise died as quickly as it had come as angry voices yelled from the hall outside. A heavy fist banged against the metal door; and everyone sat still-holding their breath as the stink of human fear filled the air.

"Shut up in there! We'll cut your rations Amestrisan scum!" a Drachman voice bellowed.

The threat hung heavily in the air as the Guards voice faded, and as Mustang looked over he saw real fear seeping into Edwards dulling gold eyes.

All of his pervious reassuring thoughts were shattered. For Edward to look so frightened…

Fullmetal looked horrible, Roy realized, even beneath the filth his usual tanned skin was pasty. His cheekbones seemed sharp enough to cut and emphasized how hollow his cheeks were, his hair was a mattered mess that tangled its way to the middle of his back. Every strand was a thick grimy tendril. His jaw line was covered with a patchy stubble that astounded him.

Surly it wasn't that long ago, that Fullmetal wouldn't have been _able _to grow such a mess. Tt looked like it was still recovering from some battle with a shaky razor. Edward looked so much older, with those hardened eyes, lean face and the uneven stubble he was no doubt madly pleased with. He could only just see the twelve year old he had first met in this new face.

With the dark blond hair covering his chin and dotting roughly at his cheeks, Edward looked like a wild man.

But to survive in this place, maybe he _had_ to become one …

Roy shuddered and looked away.

The empty sleeve of Edwards stained jacket caught and held his attention. It seemed hideous to him in a way that Roy didn't fully understand. For Edward Elric to look so _broken_ so _fragile…so frail_ didn't seem possible. Fullmetal was a tower of strength, even when Roy had seen him without the arm, after whatever fight he'd broken it in; the young man had _never _looked so feeble.

His remanding hand was a horror to behold in itself. Horrendous burns covered his palm and the pads of ever finger, like they had been pressed against a heated surface and held there. And held there, and held there until his skin had blistered off. Unhealed and watery-the wounds still looked surprisingly clean. Roy stiffened as he noticed that Ed's ring finger was missing, a twisted gaping hole left between the rest of his digits stressing its absence.

_It seemed that all Alchemists are given special treatment_, he noted as he held his own ruined hands to his chest.

With the silence in place, it was easy to hear the guards' footsteps fading off down the hall.

Though, it still took an age for anyone to make a sound. But slowly low babble began to reemerge.

Edward swallowed thickly and slowly his eyes tore away from the steel door and back to Mustangs face.

"Our cells rations have already been cut twice. Bad behavior on my part is making everyone else pay. The other rooms are putting aside what they can and distributing it through our room during our time in the Yard. I'm still amazed they're giving up any of it, but we're all in this together…its reassuring…but we can't risk loosing anymore. We _can'_t" he said in a small voice, so only Roy and perhaps the Warrant Officer, could hear.

Mustang nodded slowly, still taking everything in.

"What do you mean by 'my bad behavior'" he asked. Edward scowled before looking away.

"As I'm sure you've gathered, Alchemist are specially treated and because of this we're not much help in the Yard. We're sometimes taken off to the warehouse, the only other building apart from the cells on camp."

Roy waited for the rest to come, but Edward stayed quiet. The Warrant Officer stood up with a poignant nod to Edward and himself before giving them space. Looking around he saw that all the men in the bunks above and round them, had all turned away or started conversations.

It was the closest to privacy as one could get in a room such as this, Roy noted.

"What happens in the warehouse Edward?"

If Fullmetal noticed the use of his name he didn't acknowledge it, as he scowled into space. Eyes boring into something just past Mustangs shoulder he said

"It's amazing any life can survive in a place like this. How both the best in men and the worse come out in these kinds of circumstances. If it wasn't for these men I wouldn't have lasted a week, crippled as I am, can't even hold a mug of water. But still life can strive on. The only female Alchemist is pregnant. I wonder how long she'll last. Cell eight she's in, I know the room gives her extra food. There's another example of the human heart -giving up food they don't have to spare for a new life. Amazing, it really is" Edwards voice was soft, but Mustang caught their hidden meaning.

'-_the only female __**alchemist **__is pregnant-'_

Roy closed his eyes to hold back his disgust. He bet the cells rations had been cut because Edward resisted…

_Filthy Drachman beasts. _

"I suppose only weeds like us can grow in places like this. Ha-I'm getting all metaphorical-avoiding the point, always promised myself I'd never do that. 'Always be direct' I'd tell myself, 'don't dance around the issue'. Well shit, call me old fashioned but I think a situation like this gives me an excuse" Ed babbled on in the same absent tone.

"How many State Alchemists are there?" Roy asked quietly, Edwards's steady stream of words halted and he blinked.

"Three" he looked at Roy "Four now and one civilian with some talent"

Mustang nodded, there weren't many Alchemists compared to soldiers, so he wasn't surprised more hadn't been caught.

"Who?"

"There's David the civilian, then there's the Dawn and Fever Alchemists"

"Specializing in?"they were slipping back into the familiar roles of commander and subordinate, and Roy could see that Edwards eyes where slowly unthawing with the distraction.

"David was a farmer. He can do a bit of earth moving but mainly focused on the plants themselves. They have some steel rods through his hands. Dawn controls light and how it refracts of surfaces. She could blind a room in an instant and make it damn near impossible to see someone-making 'em almost invisible. They break her hands like yours. Fever could control the temperature of the air, using the molecules for friction and creating heat, and the water atoms to make it cold and so forth. Basic enough but effective. They cut his hands off." He said it all matter-of-factly, as he stared at his own burnt palm.

"Oh yeah, expect a visit from the guards-they like to make sure our hands stay useless." Ed added.

Roy shuddered and winced as the movement jostled his hands. Ed looked at him, a hint of sympathy in his hardened eyes.

"You'll get used to it"

Silence hung between them and slowly the men in the bunks turned back to their business.

"I assume you have an escape plan" Roy said finally.

Ed looked up, a sudden grin twisting his face. The expression was an old familiar one to the General; he'd seen it often enough during those first few years Ed had spent under his command. That 'who me?" look that promised he'd destroyed something expensive and damn well enjoyed doing it.

"Oh yes" Edward almost purred, meeting Mustangs eye his grin stretched even further across his face

"And you may just be our ace"

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Yes, I admit I'm a tad sadistic, but I really do enjoy writing darker things. You can play with the strength of human character which I always find interesting. I hope you liked! _Please Review!_

Cooper


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